


Flora And Fauna

by finnlogan, verulams (finnlogan)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Flora & Fauna, Aliens, Cross-species Relationship, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Michael isn't particularly BOTHERED by it but it is a bit mind-control-y, Other, Plants, Possession, Romance, Sci-Fi, Teeth, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnlogan/pseuds/finnlogan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnlogan/pseuds/verulams
Summary: Michael Stone, a human living in City 5, is in love (?) with his housemate, an alien called Siobhan. He spends an awful lot of time thinking about how to successfully go from ‘housemates’ to ‘partners’, and since Michael wants to do things right,  he spends a lot of time thinking and not a lot of time actuallydoing.Michael is a hard worker with a strong sense of duty, so when a stranger in a cafe asks him to look after their plant, he can’t just let it die. He resolves to keep it alive, no matter what Siobhan might think. It turns out the plant is sentient, psychic, and hungry.***"Michael's tongue catches on his teeth."(Written for an anthology curated byJing. I will link further when it is all finished!)
Relationships: Michael Stone/Siobhan Keane
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. ACT 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this as an anthology piece for a friend of mine, who you can find [here (on twitter) ](https://twitter.com/Satansfoot1) or [here (on Instagram).](https://www.instagram.com/yawormlad/?hl=en)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

"C'mon, Michael," he mutters to himself, staring at the broad sheet of the screen in front of him. He taps at a few more keys, just _one more line in the spreadsheet,_ and shakes his head, running his tongue over his teeth. "Home time."

Forcing himself away from his desk, he clocks out of work 20 minutes after his shift ends and finds himself plodding down the street, letting people rush around him. It's a busy rush hour, even for City 5, and there's a heaviness to the air that reminds him of the ceaseless smog. Heaving a breath and pulling the collar of his jumper over his mouth, Michael rounds a corner. He steps between the stones of the pavement as he did at the end of every shift, and heads to City 5 Coffee.

Patting at the pockets of his jeans, he grabs for his phone. Honestly, he was forever glad to have big pockets in his clothes, not least because his housemate Siobhan was always complaining about pocket-space. His fingers brush over the thin transparent glass, relishing the clarity of the device. In a place like City 5, with smog covering every inch of the ground, it was nice to see things clearly. Sure enough, as he unlocks the screen, a message flags up from Siobhan.

"Are you cooking dinner tonight?" Michael reads Siobhan's voice loud and clear from the text, its faint accent and its home-like familiarity. "If yes, I want paella. If not, I want you to cook dinner. Which I would really like, by the way, just saying!" There's a little winking emoji tacked to the end.

Michael sighs and locks the screen, shoving it in his pocket and rubbing his palms at his eyes. He keeps walking, rounding another corner through the congested streets.

He was probably meant to be _doing_ something about the Siobhan situation, but he had no idea how it had gotten this bad in the first place. He and Siobhan had been housemates for years, and friends for even longer, so it was really inconvenient that he'd chosen now to have… feelings. There was never a good time to fancy your housemate. There was never a good time to fancy your best friend, either, but that had clearly not stopped him so far.

Michael ignores himself and Siobhan's message, taps his teeth with his tongue, and steps into the warm grey ambience of City 5 Coffee. The purifier at the front spits clean air towards him, and he inhales with greedy lungs. Maybe it was just his imagination, but something about the air outside tastes acrid on his tongue these days. It was presumably to do with the high-end purifier they'd bought for the apartment. He smooths out the fabric of the front of his jumper, rough against his hands and still stubbornly too large for him. He frowns down at it, then catches himself in the massive mirror across the back of the bar. He's much stockier than he used to be, body broader and thicker, and although he can't see them the scars along his chest are mostly healed now.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he steps into a corner for some privacy. It's Siobhan again. "Come on, darling," he says, and once again he reads it in Siobhan's gentle accent, "Help a culinary-challenged guy out, Michael dearest."

Michael groans in the back of his throat and shoves the phone back in his pocket, clutching his face in his hands. Ridiculous. How was he meant to approach Siobhan about all of the feelings he was having if he kept calling Michael darling all the time? He grumbles under his breath and dumps his bag on his usual seat, rifling through it to retrieve his pen and paper and arranging his worksheets on the table, before heading over to the bar.

"Alright, Mike?" Asks the barista, whose name Michael should know but doesn't. They're an alien, skin scaly and iridescent, shifting in colour in a way that always made him blink. "How're you? How's Siobhan?"

"Yeah, we're good, he's alright!" Michael mumbles, fingers worrying at the fraying knit of his sleeves. "How are you?"

"Ah, you know," the barista smiles and reveals the black fleshy gums around sharp turquoise teeth, "Same old, same old. What can I get for you?"

He orders a latte and hangs awkwardly around the bar before he remembers he has to ask for a receipt. The barista smiles a toothy grin as they hand the drink over, before tapping at the little sheet of glass chained to the counter. Michael extends his phone out and downloads the bill, smiling back and stepping over to his bag. He sits down at the table with a sigh. With practised fingers, he places the pen and paper in their rightful position and pulls out his tablet. As always, it takes longer than it should to get set up. The faint rumble of transport outside the blue window is equally as distracting as ever, and his lack of concentration is the same as always, too.

"Right," he murmurs, clicking his pen with his hand as he boots up the machine. "Let's get going." He puts his head down, opens his pad, and puts pen to paper.

He's just about finished writing the date when someone sits at his table. Frowning, he glances up, and there… is a stranger? A complete stranger, much taller than he was and standing in front of the chair opposite him. Their grey hair hangs over the table, and their green skin reflects against the pad that Michael's pen is still vainly resting against.

The stranger waves at him, looking at him with dark eyes and smiling. Their sharp teeth are set in deep green gums, but their smile seems genuine enough, so Michael grins back at them. They pull out the chair and sit down with a deep huffing noise. That sort of difference in culture wasn't unusual here, especially since City 5 was so large. Having different conceptions of personal space was common even in human cultures, after all. As their shadow casts over the table, Michael clicks his pen and sits back a little anyway.

At his questioning glance, they make a noise that Michael can vaguely recognise as a laugh. It is littered with whispers, the susurrus woven into the fabric of the sound. "Hello," they say.

He pauses and slowly places his pen down onto the table. "Hello," he returns. "How… How's it going?

"Oh, it's going well, thank you," The breathy, vibratory note to it sticks with him. Reaching down, they thump an enormous bag onto the table. It's bulging at the seams, and the thick grey material doesn't look like it'll hold up much longer. Well used, he thinks, and frowns at it when it encroaches on his space, just inches from his hologram tablet. It wasn't a new piece of tech, but it had still been expensive. He nudges it back towards the end of the table.

"Do I know you?" Michael asks, staring at the bag. Silence trickles into the cafe, so he looks up and shifts his feet under the table.

They grin when their eyes meet, and sharp though their teeth are, they still don't seem at all threatening. Their shoulders and posture are diminutive as if trying to make up for their colossal height. "You don't know me yet, no. My name is Nimue."

Michael bites his lips, squints, and extends a hand. "Michael," he says, blinking when their hand is cold to touch. Their grip is vice-like, iron-wrought and strong. "Nice to meet you."

Their sharp teeth glisten in the light. "And you." They rifle through the bag, and it moves violently under their touch. Michael blinks at it, shakes his head, and goes back to tapping at the tablet. The only thing worse than being rude to strangers was getting distracted in the middle of hard work.

There's nothing to it, really, just long lines of blue and an attempt to make all of the little sections fall into line. It was never easy, but it was certainly never hard. He's not very good at coding yet, so it feels like greeting an adversary with a hug when he types into the document. Sighing, he reels off another few lines, and then-

He shoots a glance up at Nimue just so his eyes can look at something else. They're staring. "Hello?" He says. They don't look away. "Uh," he pulls a face, and they still don't look away.

The tension sits oddly against his eyes, suddenly, like allergies, like the tightness of his lungs in the smog. The stare is _intense_ like he's being examined and evaluated. Like he's being watched by a thousand eyes at once.

Seconds grip to his thoughts. It's like sandpaper dragged across glass, rough. Nimue stares at him until the back of his throat dries out. His eyes blink without permission as if, in the sanitised confines of City 5 Coffee, they're sitting in the desert. He feels as though his lashes are filling with grit.

When he can find it in his obstinately dry throat to swallow and look away, Nimue makes an odd noise in the back of their throat that Michael can't _quite_ place the meaning of. "I have something for you!" They announce, so chipper that Michael almost forgets the stare, and liquid floods back into his veins.

Michael laughs and waves a hand. "No, thank you, I can't accept gifts from a stranger!"

Nimue gives him a razor-sharp look. Their hands are cradled around something in the bag, fingernails sharp enough to see through the taught fabric of it. "It is not a gift," Nimue says, tone rich with disgust. "It is a duty."

Well, then. There was presumably something conveniently polite to say in response to that, but Michael doesn't know it. He sighs and purses his lips. He should have paid more attention to his Interplanetary Cultures classes back in education. "A duty?"

Nimue nods, and their fingers shift in the bag. "A duty, yes. It is whatever you make of it."

Michael sighs again. Ask a stupid question, get a cryptic answer, he supposes. He jolts when he accidentally kicks the table leg. "A duty to… what?"

"You ask too many questions, Michael," they tut, "It is just a plant."

Michael frowns and cranes his neck, trying to get a look into the bag. They shift the opening towards their body. "A plant?" He mutters. "In your bag? Wouldn't that damage a plant?"

Nimue's face looks abruptly dark. "Not this one."

Michael dredges through his vague memories of his Cultures class. The bag moves, just a little, and out of the corner his eyes, he spots Nimue making an alarming face. When they swing their gaze upwards and clap their hands, the sharp grey nails of their fingers make a clacking noise.

"Anyway!" They smile widely, tilting their sharp chin and standing up from the chair, which makes a screeching noise against the floor. Quick as a flash, they grasp the plant from within the bag and place it on the table.

It's definitely a plant, its leaves are dark green and paper-thin, and the fluorescent lights shining through them cast the table in a sickly hue beneath it. Its stem sways in the glow, and it has tightly wrapped buds that bend in the light, too. It looks-

"That's great," Nimue cuts through his thoughts, clapping their hands again, and turning on their heel. "So, I'll just leave you with Mandy, I'm sure you will both be good friends. Goodbye!" They sprint out the room and leave the plant and grey bag on the table.

The coffee bar suddenly feels unbearably quiet, desperately so, like the Universe took a breath and forgot to let it out. He stares at the plant. It's still swaying, pointing its fronds towards him. It's pretty, in its own way, but certainly unlike the many plants that Siobhan coveted in the apartment. It's _weird,_ no doubt about it, and when he blinks, he could swear that the plant moves slightly, shifts in and out of the shadows it's casting.

Michael sighs. It was probably rare. Probably _worth_ something, too, probably something important. He's never looked into the alien plant market. Still, there's something about the many tendrils around the little centre that remind him of Venus flytraps, and Siobhan used to have one of those sitting in the kitchen. Maybe it was worth something to Siobhan, at least, and if not, he can certainly sell it on.

Michael, gingerly and gently, shoves the plant into the grey bag and places his pad, pen and paper back into his backpack.

The journey home from there is filled with smog, swift and easy as if he wasn't carrying an alien plant of dubious origin under his arm.

***

Siobhan greets him with a hug the moment he walks in the door. "Hello, darling!" He calls.

"Hello, how are you doing, I have a plant for you!" Michael leans back with Siobhan's arms still around him. He thrusts the grey bag to Siobhan and grins.

"You got me a _present?_ Oh, _Michael,_ husband of mine, truest of darlings, _thank you!"_ The black lines spreading on Siobhan's face are welcome. It was often helpful to live with someone like Siobhan: his heart was worn on his sleeve, and often also in the thin lines spread across his face. The lines flare again as Siobhan looks into the bag, pink skin shining in the light of their apartment.

Michael takes a second to actually look at their home and is reminded that they live in a houseplant jungle. There were plants on every surface, green, luscious leaves filling the communal space with a sort of brightness that came from life.

"Michael," Siobhan pokes at his arm, and Michael whips around to stare at the plant on the table. It is still casting a shadow in the wrong place. "I have no idea what this thing is." Siobhan pokes at the thick green stem, and it sways. When the leaves catch the light, they look almost iridescent.

"How do you suppose we look after it?"

Siobhan stares at him for a second, his blue eyes shifting as they scan him. He glances over to the plant and sighs. "Where did you get this?" Extending his long fingers, the sharp ends of his filed nails pointing towards the plants shifting flower, he taps at the centre of the bud.

It promptly closes around his finger, nipping like a terrier. Siobhan makes a noise like a ten-tonne weight has just been dropped on his hand, and rips it from the flower, cursing. "How _dare_ you, you gross, ugly plant-"

The plant seems to wilt at the criticism, and Michael winces at the way Siobhan is examining his tender finger. It looks fine, though, the black lines that are usually cast across Siobhan's skin only a little darker than usual.

"So!" Siobhan says, after a few solid seconds of examining his finger in the sun filtering through the skylight. "We've at least established that it's a _mean_ plant! Where in the _Universe_ did you get this thing, Michael?"

Michael bites his lip and shoves his hand through his hair. "Well… I was given it in that coffee bar I like. The barista I can never remember the name of asked after you, by the way-"

Siobhan gives him a genuine smile before snapping back to attention. "You really should know Juniper's name by now, Michael, _and_ you should _also_ not be accepting terrifying and ugly plants from strangers! Just not good practice to be taking plants from-"

"They just left it with me!"

"They-" Siobhan blinks and clicks his tongue. "They _left it_ with you?"

He winces. "It wasn't like… It wasn't like a _hit-and-run,_ they didn't just- Well, okay, maybe they did, but-"

"What are you talking about?!" The lines on Siobhan's face flare and stretch slowly across his skin. "A ' _hit and run'?"_

Michael heaves a breath and sighs out whatever had been brewing in his brain. "I am going to backtrack because I think I've made this sound worse than it is."

Siobhan flips his hair over his shoulder, the orange tips are faintly luminous against his black track jacket. He stands back on his hips and sighs. "Go on, then, darling."

Michael picks at the sleeves of his jumper. "Look, it was normal! Just some cross-cultural issues! Nimue was perfectly friendly, they just, uh. Gave me a plant! Mandy!" He exclaims, the name smashing back into his memory.

Siobhan blinks and exhales a weighty, deliberate breath, clutching his face with long fingers. He runs his dark tongue over his lips. "' _Mandy'?!"_

Biting his lip, Michael shakes his head roughly to clear away the cobwebs and stares up at one of the hanging plants. Its light green succulent leaves trail down from the ceiling. He glances over at Mandy who is still refusing to cast a shadow beneath its leaves. "Yeah," he mutters.

Siobhan narrows his eyes and then forcibly relaxes. "Okay, I am willing to forgive you for bringing this man-eating bastard-plant into our home, but I would _love_ to know how you're planning on getting rid of it because I'm reasonably certain we _cannot-"_

Something cracks and twinges in Michael's brain. It twists and cringes, drags his mind from one direction to the other, and he spits the words before he even really thinks them. "We're not getting rid of the plant." As soon as it had started, it melts away into nothing, a tidal wave soothed at King Cnut's feet.

Siobhan pauses, frowns, and then raises his eyebrows. "Okay, I'm not in favour of this-"

"Siobhan-" He tries, fingers tapping at his legs and tongue painful from where he's been running it against his teeth.

"But you know what? Make me food and I might change my mind."

Michael blinks.

"Chop-chop," Siobhan grins. "I require remedial paella."

It's as if it goes unnoticed, as if the tsunami was only in his head. Michael makes the paella, and in the end, it's tasty. That, at least, is easy.


	2. ACT 2

Mandy casts an ominous shifting shadow over their kitchen. There is something about it that clings to the lobes of Michael's brain, that seems to get its claws into his skin. It's hard to place, partly because he's aware it's happening. He's aware he's staring, trying too hard to shove the shadow into a box and put it on a plant identification site. Siobhan makes him a coffee, and they carry on as normal.

After breakfast, things ooze back out of their weird confines, and smooth back into shape.

"Right!" Michael claps his hands together, but flinches when Siobhan jumps at the noise. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Siobhan tilts his head and flips his hair behind his shoulder. "You seem… ready?" He smiles and reclines on the sofa.

"Well, we have to figure out how to look after Mandy, right?"

Siobhan pulls a face. "You know, somehow, I'd thought you would forget about it."

Furrowing his brows, Michael picks himself up off the cushion and ducks underneath one of the hanging plants. He heads over to the kitchen island, calling over his shoulder. "Do these need watering yet?" He points roughly in the direction of the purple plant in the corner by the purifier.

"The palm? No, she's fine. I watered her yesterday. I think the coffee could do with a water, though?"

"The… the blue one?" Michael stares around the room at the very many plants littered around the place. Only a few of them seem native to this planet. The blue leaves of the coffee plant definitely don't remind him of the grey skies outside the window. It's a complete mystery how some of the flowers in the living room grew at all.

"Yeah, the blue one. Oh, speaking of, I don't know if Eimaid has seen that one yet? We should invite her over." He whips out his phone and taps at the screen. "She could invite Hundred over too…"

Siobhan trails into silence, and Michael stares at Mandy. "Is Hundred Eimaid's girlfriend? Or are they…?" He mumbles, frowning at the plant. It still refused to do anything that indicated that it _was_ sentient, even though he's absolutely _sure_ that it is.

Siobhan doesn't look up. "Oh, yeah, Hundred and Eimaid were going strong, last time I heard."

"And we're…?" Micheal prods at Mandy's pot. Whatever it is planted in has a faint red tinge to it.

"We're happy for them, yeah."

Nodding, Michael leans back on his hips. "Well, what do you suppose we should start with? Like… insects?"

"For the plant?" When Michael nods, Siobhan heaves a sigh and places his phone on the coffee table. "We don't have any insects in here, though, do we?"

"Well, no, I guess not. We could open the windows though, right?"

Siobhan runs his tongue over his teeth. "Can you imagine the energy bill from the purifier if we did?" He blinks and exhales. "Wow, that was boring. Very boring."

"It was, yeah, but you're right. We can't do that. Not sure if any actual insects could survive out there anyway. And besides, we like boring, don't we? Boring is good for our finances."

Siobhan makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Says the man who picked up a random alien plant from some stranger."

"Hey! I'm very boring. Normal, you could say."

"Sure, darling, sure."

He bites his lip, and his stomach curls up at Siobhan's familiarity. Siobhan spoke to _everyone_ like that, anyway, so he buries the thought as deep in his brain as he can and tries to change track. He'd come back to that thought later. "Hey, though, doesn't our neighbour keep a reptile?"

Scratching at his chin, Siobhan flicks his hair behind his shoulder. "The dragon-looking thing? Yeah. Why?"

Michael pauses. "They eat insects, don't they?"

"Is it actually terrestrial, then? I always thought it wasn't. You know, with the big…" Siobhan makes claws with his fingers and claps them together. "The teeth?

"Yeah, I reckon it is." Michael taps at one of Mandy's longer leaves. It's leathery and thick, the base of it curling around the stem. "Ow," he mutters. The flesh of the plant gives him a tiny electric shock. He rubs his hands on his jeans and turns back to Siobhan. "It's like- it's a little lizard, right?"

Siobhan hums. "Yeah, it _was._ I don't think they stay little."

"Hm," Michael mumbles, and they leave it at that.

***

Siobhan bangs on his door in the middle of the night. "Michael!" He screeches. " _Michael_!"

Michael shoots upwards, staggering, and stumbles over to the door. His boxer shorts have ridden up, and his shirt is so thin and old it may as well not be there at all, but he pulls his shirt down and then wrenches the door open, in that order. His eyes burn with tension, the light clinging to his eyes. "Siobhan! Are you okay?!"

Siobhan stands in the brightly lit hallway with Mandy grasped in his hands. It's wilting. Siobhan's face is cobwebbed with black lines, spreading and morphing across his skin, and he makes an odd face. He looks distraught, vaguely like a family member has died. Maybe it was Michael's fault, maybe it was _Mandy's_ fault, maybe somehow the plant sitting wilted in Siobhan's hands is responsible for the next air war they're due-

"Siobhan?!"

Siobhan bites his lip and holds Mandy out. "It _spat out all of the water. It spat it out!"_

Michael pauses. "You-"

"Michael, this awful plant you have landed us with spat _water_ all over my new _phone."_

Something crunches in Michael's gut. Ah. This was _his_ fault. This was not a 'Siobhan has murdered a plant' problem, this was a 'Michael has inadvertently committed property damage' problem.

Ah.

"Siobhan, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have left Mandy so close to your phone. I won't do that again. Is your phone okay?"

Siobhan's mouth crinkles down. "Yes, though I'm still not happy with you. That's not what I'm getting at though." He once again shoves the wilting, dark green mass at Michael. "Your plant _spat water out."_

Michael takes the plant as Siobhan pushes it further into his space, and glares at him expectantly. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me."

Siobhan makes a pained noise. "Do you want to keep the plant?"

Michael's stomach turns. "Yeah," he croaks. Siobhan narrows his eyes, then seems to think better of whatever he'd been considering.

"We'll need to find it some food, then." He says, breathing deeply. "This thing will die, and then its _ghost_ will spite me, that's how much it hates me."

"Better call our neighbour then, right? For the insects?"

Siobhan sighs. "I guess. Though, Eimaid works at that pet store, so we should try that first I think. I am not kidding when I say I am terrified of that lizard thing."

Michael leans on the doorframe, glancing down at Mandy's drooping leaves. "I-"he blinks, suddenly aware of the vast shadows clinging to the floor inside his room. The glow from the hall splits the ground apart with light. "Wait, what's the time?"

"Oh," Siobhan says, peering around the corner of the hallway. He winces. "The clock says it's _early._ Sorry. I just got up for…" he squints and sighs. "I have no idea what I got up for. Definitely something important though, I'm sure."

Michael huffs a laugh, "Definitely." Thrusting Mandy back over to Siobhan, he cracks his fingers and stretches his spine. "I'm going back to bed. Can we go to the pet store later?"

Staring down at the wilted and grim grey-green leaves, Siobhan sighs. "Okay, I guess… I guess we can't let it die. Ugh! Okay. See you later, darling. Love you." He pads back into the kitchen, and Michael closes his door.

Collapsing into bed, he tries really hard not to think about 'love you'. He tries even harder to think instead about why he felt so awful at the idea of Mandy dying, but it doesn't last long. He blinks, and sleep takes him.

***

Waking up later is much easier. There is no hammering on his door, and he wakes up gently with the greyish sunlight. Michael didn't keep plants in his room, and as a place to live, it often seemed starkly dull compared to the vibrant life of the kitchen and Siobhan's room. He sighs, itching at the scars on his chest. It wasn't that he didn't like plants, it was more than Michael could never look after one properly, no matter how hard he tried. His love affair with plants had been well and truly over when he'd killed an alien plant that supposedly needed to sit near a purifier. It had extended it's tendrils over to Siobhan's old Venus flytrap, and that had been it. No more plants for Michael. There was something about Mandy, though, something about it that made him think of ancient things, of prehistoric beasts, of those huge ferns he used to see in pictures of Dinosaurs in education. Something about it seemed more _alive,_ less flora and more fauna. Michael is still convinced that it is sentient, which was not a thing plants were known to regularly be.

Still, by the time they get to the pet shop, he's beginning to doubt his memory. They have photos of Mandy, but nobody at the store can identify it. He scratches through his dim memory, trying to figure out if the stranger had called it a plant at all. Maybe it _wasn't_ one, maybe it was some alien fungus. Maybe they should try to feed it something _dead._ Not that either of them routinely had anything dead in the house. Not even the short-lived megahamster they'd tried to keep had _died,_ they'd just given it to Eimaid, where it was now living a long and happy life in a much more loving household.

Siobhan prods him, and he catapults back into the moment. "Dog food?" He tries when Siobhan doesn't say anything. They're standing in an aisle stacked to the ceiling with animal toys, bright colours and swirling patterns a little disconcerting in his brain. He feels fuzzy, somehow, mind lost amongst the commotion of colours.

He blinks and snaps back again. Siobhan is peering at him. "You okay, darling?"

Michael clicks his tongue. "…Yes?"

Frowning, Siobhan sighs. "Okay, let's do this and get you out of here. Not a fan of all the emotional noise in here either. There are some psychic children over in the back talking about a psychic arachnid, and I'm not having it."

Michael winces as they trek around the store to the dog food aisle.

"What makes you think it likes dog food, anyway?" Siobhan asks as Michael inspects a can of food.

"Just a hunch," Michael mumbles. The label describes the fifty different types of meat contained within it, and he feels his stomach turn as he taps out aimless rhythms on the metal.

Siobhan crouches down to look at the food on the bottom shelf, his shoes squeaking on the tile as the purifier whines in the background. "You just have a hunch? That our plant likes dog food?"

"I think it likes meat, actually," he corrects, putting one can down and grabbing another one. The bright blue label and fancy font do little to distract him from the main ingredient: 'reconstituted plant and animal carbohydrate'. He makes a low disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

Siobhan frowns in his peripheral vision. "You think the plant that hates me is a meat-eater. Brilliant."

"It'll be fine," he mumbles, returning to his first choice of food. "I'm sure it won't eat you."

"Oh, _charming._ Yes, darling," Siobhan snorts, hoisting himself up and leaning back on his hips. He swishes his hair behind his shoulder, and when Michael looks up he could've sworn there was sunlight in his eyes. Not that Michael's ever seen a lot of it, but still. He was so poised, so in motion, that it was almost odd to remember that Siobhan was prone to spilling food down his shirts. He was great at making coffee but somehow forgot how to use their home machine. That the dark shining lines across his face proved that he got very embarrassed whenever anyone said anything remotely explicit. Michael blinks and refocuses as Siobhan raises his eyebrows. "Very kind and caring." Michael blinks at him again, and Siobhan obviously has to stifle a smile. "It already _tried_ to eat me."

"Because you were poking at it," Michael reasons. He stands up too, stiffer but stronger. He glances at the dog food in his hand and runs his tongue over his far back teeth. "This'll have to do. Let's get going."

Siobhan raises a sharp eyebrow. The strands of his hollow and thin hair fall into his face, and when he smoothes them back, Michael is struck _again_ by his movements. Like a dancer., almost, but Siobhan had never danced. Siobhan was just confident. It spoke in his every move. Maybe it was something to do with being vaguely and indeterminately psychic, perhaps it wasn't.

It was so often hard to tell with Siobhan.

"I can't believe you managed to get me to go into a pet shop." Siobhan mutters as they walk out the door.

"Wasn't it your suggestion?" Michael mumbles, trying to shove the can into his pocket.

"Well," says Siobhan. "Yes, but you didn't need to agree. It's a plant, anyway, we don't need to buy it live food-"

Michael frowns across at him, jamming the can deeper into his pocket. "It didn't like the plant food…"

Sighing, Siobhan looks at him with smiling eyes. "Look, in 40 years when we're old and married, I want you to know that you're the one who will faun over our pets like they're our children."

Michael blinks at him. "We're getting married?" He asks, trying not to feel his heart bump in his chest.

"Of course, we are, Michael. We've lived together for years. Do you think I'm not your trophy husband?"

Michael crouches down to tie his laces, then squints over his shoulder at Siobhan. "I didn't think they had marriage on your planet."

"They don't," Siobhan says, breezily. "I just like you."

Michael makes a small noise in the front of his mouth, resonating behind his teeth, and he tries really hard to look at the bow he's trying to make.

"Let's get going shall we?"

***

"Michael!" Siobhan hammers on his door at-

He rolls over, scrunches up his face, and checks his watch. Siobhan hammers on his door in the _very early morning. "_ What?" He groans.

" _Michael!_ Your _bastard plant_ has to answer for its _bastard crimes-"_

There's a sudden wrenching in his gut. He hurls himself towards the door, feet stumbling beneath him and tongue catching slightly on his teeth. "Is everything okay?!" He calls when he gains control of his panicked legs.

"Your-! Your _evil plant has put dog food on my phone."_

Frowning, he pulls open the door and squints into the hall light. Siobhan's hair is haphazard and looks frayed around his shoulders. Mandy is nowhere to be seen, and the wrenching in his gut tightens. Siobhan's network of dark lines is flared again, painting a map of a place he can't even imagine.

"Are you- what's happening?" His eyes are bleary, and the front of his tongue is sharp where it grazes his teeth.

"Michael, look, I know it's early, but one of my favourite bands was due to have a song drop in five minutes, and I went out to get my phone, and it has _dog food_ on it, and that means there was _an animal corpse_ on my phone and- and-!"

Michael grabs at Siobhan's shoulders. It usually helped Siobhan to have contact, but he takes care not to grasp too hard. "Hey! Hey, slow down, it's okay! It's okay. Say that again, but slower." Siobhan takes a huge breath and releases it, so he drops his hands and holds them out, placating, instead. "What was that?"

"I went in to get my phone because The Perseids have a song dropping in a few minutes and your plant left a pile of the dog food we left on the soil! _On my phone!"_ Siobhan pulls the long fabric of his pyjamas down over his elbows and frowns. "You don't seem concerned."

"It's not that! It left a _pile_ of it?" He blinks and shakes his head. "Wait, is your phone alright?"

"Michael! It's got meat on it!" Siobhan covers his mouth with his long fingers. "If I miss the song drop I will be _distraught_."

Michael tries his best to hold back the soft noise in the back of his throat. "Would you like to use my tablet?"

"Oh, Universe, yes! Honestly, my love, I may have some problems looking at plant life ever again after this-"

When his gut twists at 'my love', it's entirely different to the wrenching pull he'd felt towards the door. He tries to place the difference, but it's very early, so he gives up and grabs his tablet instead.

"Here," he croaks and coughs, "Enjoy it. I'll try to… Rescue your phone? From the meat?"

Siobhan's nod is vigorous enough that it probably hurts his neck. Smiling, he retreats back across the hall and checks his watch. He gasps and rockets through the door, shutting it with a little more force than was probably necessary. Michael feels the slamming rumble in the back of his teeth.

After that, it's just him in the brightly lit hallway with dust in his eyes and a pang in his heart.

"Okay, Michael," he mutters. "Time to face the… the plant." He sighs, glaring down at his threadbare nightshirt. He yanks at his boxers so that they fit a little better, and grumbles with each hesitant step towards the kitchen.

Something about this whole thing is starting to feel weird.

Heaving a breath, he rounds the corner and turns to face the weird inky plant. It still casts a shadow, even in the dark, the light of the hall not quite reaching Mandy's pot.

"Okay, Mandy," he whispers, "Don't eat me." He gingerly steps around the kitchen, padding forward to pick up Siobhan's phone.

He grimaces. It's _slimy._ If Mandy was sentient, then he could understand why the dog food would go uneaten. "Ew," he mutters. "Maybe we should try five-star cuisine." He sticks out his tongue and freezes.

There's a whisper. _"Finally,"_ it says. "Someone who speaks my language."

Michael makes no noise and tries very hard to hold his breath.

The voice hisses a laugh. "Come on now. Like I'd eat you."

Michael-

Michael stares at the shadow Mandy casts. When the voice laughs, it moves.

Eventually, in a shaky voice, as he unsticks his limbs and tries to stretch his panic-stricken fingers, he mumbles, "…Mandy?"

Mandy laughs.


	3. ACT 3

Michael stays quiet for a long, dreadful moment, holding his breath. Nothing jumps out at him, nothing leaps forward with a knife, and nothing tries to kill him. His fingers clench around Siobhan's phone as if all of the might happen anyway. They grasp around the phone like something worse could happen, too. "...Why are you in my house?"

Mandy (if it _was_ Mandy) scoffs. "You brought me here."

Michael frowns and peers around in the dark. "Can I switch on the light? Will you... kill me?"

"No," the voice laughs. "I won't kill you. I didn't kill Nimue, did I?"

Squinting at the shadow cast in the dark room, Michael frowns. "…Nimue?"

The voice has a smile caught in its teeth. "Nimue is the stranger who so unceremoniously _foisted_ you upon me. Or me upon you. The semantics are so far… unclear."

"Oh! Nimue!" Michael almost forgets he's talking to a plant for a split second, but something clenches in his spine. He clears his throat. "Why did…?" He coughs again. "Why did Nimue want to… ah, get rid of you?"

"I think Nimue was tired of my… lifestyle," the voice purrs, stretching this way and that. It's languid in his ears.

There's a dull drone in the bottom of his eardrums. Michael winces, just a little. "So, you're psychic? Like Siobhan?"

" _Not_ like Siobhan, no. I am far more adept than your… friend. I was _grown_ for it, after all."

"So you _are_ a plant, then."

"…In a manner of speaking."

Silence falls, thick and almost visibly inky in the dark room.

The plant, in a turn that is bizarre even to Michael, wilts a little, and when he says nothing, it makes a noise of annoyance and droops further.

"I'm not going to give you my _backstory,_ Michael. I'm not grown for exposition."

Michael squints at it, peering through the darkness. "What are you grown for, then?"

"What did I _just_ say?" It twinges and flickers with annoyance, it snaps like an elastic band against the skin. There is something about this plant that has gotten inside his head.

Michael, Universe forbid, is just _curious._ It was just _odd_ , a rumpled sheet on a bed that was never slept in. The psychic stuff doesn't sit wrong on his skin. It never had with Siobhan, either, it had always been… just how it was. Just-so, as-is, merely the way of things. It never seemed _unwelcome._

Maybe that said more about Michael than about the psychics regularly trying to invite themselves into his brain.

"Ow," spits the voice, and suddenly Michael is aware of movement. A brief flicker of wind. Through the very dim light, Michael notices a leaf fall from the stem.

"Oh," he mumbles and reaches out. "Are you okay?"

His fingers-

His-

Michael's fingers gently prop up the leaf. It all happens quickly, fast as the snap of his thoughts, the neural pathways connecting and his spine jolting into place. Michael's body seems to twist and tense beneath him because there's something like a flash of light behind his eyes.

Suddenly, there is clarity. Crisp and clean and calm, Michael's brain has never felt shinier, never felt more like the chrome worktops Siobhan had lusted after when they'd looked around apartments.

The room is barely there. It is over contrasted, lit and shifting with faint tones of green. There is nothing but this, for a brief moment.

Michael is once again reminded of Siobhan, glancing down. The phone clatters down from his hand, and he feels his teeth clench and crack and clench again, looking for something soft to eat, something living, something breathing _-_

Michael blinks. Michael was a vegetarian. Siobhan was a vegetarian, too. In fact, there wasn't any meat in the apartment. Michael wasn't even sure they had any _substitute_ for meat.

"What?" Comes the voice, perplexed. " _None?"_

_"_ Well," Michael reasons. "I guess we have that fish that Eimaid and Hundred gave us…?"

It's bizarre. Michael feels his nose wrinkle up, and he feels his fingers flex, and he feels his mouth twist up. The acid wash white of his eyes seems like a sheet on a line, billowing in the wind. It feels strange on his tongue, and then the acid-wash fades to the colour of eggshells, and then everything looks normal again.

"That will _have_ to work, then."

When Michael realises that the voice is not only coming from a sentient carnivorous plant, but also from _inside his brain,_ it is another odd sensation. It's like drawing back net curtains or peering through one of those old sheets of see-through paper. It's deeply strung and delicately played, the notes pulled taut on a piano.

All of this, of course, should be uncomfortable. Michael is dimly aware that all parts of this situation were a bit weird. The realisation that Siobhan was wrapped in a blanket and watching good music on Michael's tablet while _Michael_ was dealing with _Mandy_ only sits a little strange.

Mandy shrugs, and in an instant, Michael cracks back into semi-solid consciousness.

He leans back on his hips. "Huh," he murmurs. "You're… in my brain?"

"Just your mind," Mandy responds, conversationally. "Nothing physical!"

"Oh."

"Yes."

Silence.

"…Should we, uh, do something about that?" Michael stares at the ceiling. The lumpy leaves of the plant directly above him seem like plastic, now. Still, when he glances down, expecting luscious green, Mandy instead looks… dead. "Should we do something about _that?!"_

"Oh," Mandy says. Michael could not describe the voice accurately if his life depended on it. It's crackled as if the words are spoken through one of those old stereos. It's also blisteringly obvious that Mandy is not from any solar system in this Universe. "We need to get food."

"Oh," Michael mumbles. It hits him then. The hunger. He notices it.

And suddenly Michael's teeth ache, splitting and tearing and rending against his tongue. The pressure wrecks him, a ship at sea. He blinks and clutches his stomach.

"Fish?" Mandy asks, hopefully.

"Yep," Michael groans. Grabbing the fish from the freezer, he chucks it into the oven and cringes. A moment's pause. "Do I have to eat that?"

"Well, I suppose I'm the one that _has_ to eat it. I think I would prefer it sooner rather than later though if that's alright with you?"

Michael blinks, staring into the glow that's beginning to creep in from underneath the shutters. "What does that mean?"

If Mandy had a face, Michael is confident it would purse its lips. "It means you should eat the fish, Michael. And then I won't need to borrow your mind like _this_ again."

"Mm," Michael nods. "Seems reasonable. Not sure what Siobhan's gonna think though-"

"Oh, speaking of which," Mandy's voice is such an odd sensation, creeping up from nowhere and vibrating in his bones. "You know he thinks you're dating?"

"What?"

"Yeah," Mandy says. It is guttural and eldritch at the same moment as it is high and sweet. "Siobhan thinks you're dating. And you _are_ , by the way."

Michael breathes and changes the subject.

"How come you're named Mandy, anyway?"

"You should know that I'm not going to drop this conversation-"

Hunger splits his guts. "Yeah, can it wait until everything is less awful, though?"

"Hm," mumbles Mandy. "Yes. Probably."

In a period of time, the length of which Michael could not recall if his life depended on it, he finds out some things about the plant.

First, its name was unpronounceable and _long._ Mandy, as it turned out, was okay.

Second, Mandy was polite. Polite enough, he supposed, for an invasive psychic plant.

Third, Mandy wouldn't need to do this to eat all the time. Nimue had starved it, and dog food had not been the best idea Michael had ever had either.

Michael, shoving the last bite of fish in his mouth, heaves a breath. He swallows, and the hunger is gone. Glancing over at the plant, it is immediately apparent that it has done the leaves a _universe_ of good. Where a plant-corpse had once wilted over the pot, now there is what looks like a little green tree. Its shadow is cast in the right place.

Michael breathes a sigh of relief, and the plant in the pot does a small, fluid wave. He blinks, and waves back. It's… cute?

Mandy's voice has an odd lilt to it when it says: "…thanks?"

Sniggering at the tone of it, Michael glances around the room. There are plants, as there have always been. The purifier, and that's always been there too. And then there's Siobhan's phone on the floor.

Oh. There's Siobhan's phone on the floor.

"Right," He mouths. Standing up, he claps his hands, then cringes when Mandy audibly intakes a sharp breath. "Sorry. Just… Thinking. Should probably talk to Siobhan about this, I think."

Mandy sighs but stays quiet, so Michael picks up the phone and cleans it off on a towel. It doesn't look damaged, which wasn't a surprise because most technologies took a _lot_ of damage to break, but it _does_ feel _slimy_. He pulls a face, then pulls up his boxers.

When he knocks on Siobhan's door, it feels a little like… something momentous. It feels a bit like something grand, something like the history they used to teach in class about the first contact with the Universe. It also feels a bit like waking up in the morning to a pre-made coffee and a warm smile. Somewhere in-between those two things, he supposes.

He knocks again. Eventually, Siobhan's messy hair peers around the door with a yawn. "Oh," he says. "Hello, darling."

"Hey, Siobhan," Michael's teeth graze his tongue.

Siobhan yawns again. "Why are there two of you?" He smoothes his hair into place with barely open eyes. There are no flared lines this time, just vivid pink and orange skin.

"What?"

"There's two of you."

If he could, he would share a sideways glance with Mandy. Mandy, of course, is a plant, so he squints at Siobhan instead. "I think I've been possessed by the plant, Siobhan."

"Oh," he says, and appears to process that for a second.

"Yeah," Michael mumbles. His teeth feel sharp against his mouth.

"You- wait," Siobhan's networks of lines flare a little, "You've been possessed by the _plant?_ "

"Yeah," Michael says. Mandy, in the very back of his head, nods approvingly. "It wanted meat."

Siobhan frowns at him. "You're joking."

"I think- I think it also wants me to eat you?" He mutters. "Not sure. I don't think _Mandy's_ sure. But don't worry! Apparently, it's not from the Universe, so it's probably going to have some good problem-solving ideas for how to fix this-"

Siobhan squints at him and crosses his arms. "You seem calm." He points out. "Calmer than is probably reasonable given the murderous plant."

Blinking, Michael takes a second to reflect on that. In all honesty, it doesn't seem like anything has _changed?_ He doesn't even feel different, just smaller now that there's a new presence in his head. "I dunno, Siobhan," he says, slowly. "I think I'm just glad that the plant is _polite."_

Siobhan's frown is deep, and his expression is so severe that it cringes in his guts. "Okay, I'm going to switch on the light, Michael and… and Mandy. We're gonna figure this out." He reaches out, just out of view, and flips the switch. The light floods the hall.

"Woah," Siobhan mutters. He tilts his head, swishing his hair behind his shoulders. "Those… aren't contact lenses, are they?"

Michael sharply bites his lips and Mandy, in the dark background of his brain, stifles a laugh. "No, Siobhan. Why?"

Siobhan looks unimpressed. "I can hear you laughing, Mandy."

Mandy stops laughing. Michael makes a hesitant movement towards Siobhan but thinks better of it. "Do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah, I- one moment!" He disappears behind the door and then pops his head back around. "Look."

Gingerly, Michael takes it. His eyes are- "Green? And black? You're seeing that too?"

Siobhan, pursing his lips, nods. "Yeah. Very unoriginal by the way, Mandy. Honestly, could've thought of a better colour scheme, couldn't you?"

"Whatever," Mandy says, in the back of his brain. "It's not like _you_ can possess people-!"

"How _dare_ you, you ugly little creature. That's like saying-!"

"Okay, no more, please." Michael holds out his hand, grasping the mirror in his fingers. He tries for placating, but if Mandy had a mouth, Michael knows it would be sticking its tongue out.

"Come _on,_ love-"

Something twangs in his gut at the word, something cringes in pain, something desperately hopeful clenches down at the familiarity.

Mandy sighs like the whole world has been sucked from lungs it doesn't have. "Oh, for the sake of the _Universe!"_

Michael's every hair stands to attention. It feels somewhat like every single one of his cells wants to jump ship, escape, clear out, be very much _not part of Michael_. Michael doesn't blame them. _"Not now, please, Mandy!"_

_"No,_ this is _silly!_ I've been _very_ polite so far."

Siobhan's face is flaring, and his eyes are narrowed and- "Michael…?"

There's a short pause where everything moves very slowly. This _is_ silly, of course, because the only moving thing is the shifting pigmentation in Siobhan's face. It feels like time halts anyway, even though there isn't really anything to stop.

"Siobhan," says Mandy, and Michael feels his face burn. "You know Michael doesn't realise that you're dating?"

Michael squeezes his eyes shut and begs for the floor to swallow him up, but of course, it does no such thing. There is another long and quiet pause.

"Sorry," mutters Mandy, eventually. "I'm not good at keeping that sort of thing quiet."

Michael begs _really really hard,_ and maybe if he tries _just hard enough,_ the ground will swallow him up, and every floor below him in a huge vortex. Michael begs hard that he escapes linear time, Michael asks that he escapes three-dimensional space, just- _anything-_

"Michael?" Siobhan's voice is soft when it eventually comes.

Trembling, he bites his lips together, clamping them shut.

"Oh, Michael," Siobhan sighs. "Are you…? Are you okay?"

A further silence. Michael keeps his eyes shut.

"I'm going to put my hands around you, okay? I'll try not to… I know they're sharp, so…"

There's a sudden pressure at his head, and he heaves a sharp intake of breath, eyes snapping open.

"Oh," he mumbles.

"Hello, Michael," Siobhan smiles, head tilted to the side and hair hanging over his shoulder. The dim glow of morning filters through the shutters. It casts his hair in neon light, and Michael avoids looking him in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

Michael breathes deeply and feels inch by inch more grounded. Siobhan's hands press against his scalp.

"Not… really?" He mumbles. "I think I'll be less… freaked tomorrow."

"Okay," Siobhan sighs. "Do you want to talk about it tomorrow, then?"

Michael frowns, and tries hard to catch Siobhan's eyes. "Yeah." When he manages it, they look at each other for a long moment.

Within an instant, Siobhan's hands on his head drop down to his shoulders. "Okay. Tomorrow, then. See you then." He releases his grip and steps back behind the door. "Love you, Michael."

The door closes, and the hall is doused in darkness.

"I should not have done that." Mandy mumbles.

"No," Michael agrees, trying to relax his shoulders. "You shouldn't have."

***

"Hello," Michael mumbles, as he walks into the room. It's the next morning, and Siobhan lounges on the sofa, staring down at a screen.

"Hi," Mandy says.

"Not you," Michael snaps.

Siobhan looks up from his phone. He frowns. "Can you just go back into the plant, please?"

Michael blinks.

"…Why?" Mandy sounds _petulant._

"We're going to have an adult conversation about… about….! Look, we're just going to have a conversation, and I'd prefer not to have psychic feedback every six seconds, please."

A sharp crack and Michael stands a little straighter. It is gone as soon as it came. "..um," he makes a vague noise and stares over at the plant. It casts its eerie shadow in the wrong place. "I had no idea it could do that," Michael says, tapping his fingers against his leg.

"Yes," Siobhan sighs, gently placing his phone onto the coffee table and standing up, dusting off his leggings and straightening the collar of his top. "That sounds about right. Somebody in this room is a petulant little _child._ "

Michael glares at the plant. "You could've told me you could go back into the plant, Mandy."

It wilts, just a little. Siobhan raises his sharp eyebrows at it as if willing it to burst into flames, but softens as he glances over at Michael. He sighs, rolling the breath on his tongue, and then sits back down. He looks at Michael for a long moment, eyes soft and face clear. "Would you prefer I just get into this? Or that I ease you in?"

Michael bites his tongue. His teeth are sharp enough that he tastes rust on his tongue. "The… the first one?" He tries, then leans back. "I don't know. Do whichever one feels right, I guess?"

Siobhan blinks at him and pauses. Smiling, he pats the sofa next to him. Michael drops down into the seat with a deep sigh and stares at the ground for a second. Siobhan had never been anything but soft. They'd lived together so long, and known each other even longer. With a dawning realisation and a silence on his tongue, he mouths: "I'm _so_ ridiculous."

"Oh, Michael," Siobhan says, and places his hand gently on Michael's knee where their bodies connect, "Yes, I'm beginning to think you might be."

Flipping his head upwards, Michael stares toward the ceiling. He falls back with a soft noise, and if he could, he'd burrow into the old fabric of the sofa.

He blinks, and suddenly his memories come back online. "Before we… before we talk about all of…" he gestures, "This, before we talk about it, can I ask you something?"

Siobhan, from the corner of his eye, nods.

"Why aren't you more worried about the… the plant? It was in my brain!"

Siobhan makes an odd face, and Michael sits back up to see it better. He looks vaguely surprised, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. "It was in your _mind,_ Michael, not your brain."

Michael frowns.

"Anyway," Siobhan continues, "It happens all the time where I'm from. Lots of symbiosis going on there, apparently. I always hear about it from Eimaid when she goes back."

"Oh," Michael mumbles.

A short silence, where Michael looks at his feet and tries to think about that. It's not something he's particularly surprised by, because Eimaid and Siobhan were always trading stories from their planet. Certainly, plant-possession was not the most far-fetched of them. So instead, he thinks about Siobhan, and about how it always worked even when it didn't. How there was still familiarity, but how they grew together. They _had_ grown together.

Michael looks up at the succulents on the ceiling, at the purple palm next to the purifier, and at the blue coffee plant sitting on the counter next to Mandy. Lots of things in this apartment had grown together.

"Siobhan," he says and looks him as directly in the eyes as he can manage. "Are… Are we… dating?"

Mandy makes a disgusted noise through the air, and Siobhan hurls a glare at it before flipping his gaze back. " _I_ thought we were, Michael."

Michael bites his lips and feels his teeth against his tongue. "I- we've never even kissed!"

Siobhan seems to consider that. "Would you like to?"

"Well, _yes,_ but I also… don't understand how I can _possibly_ have been this oblivious?"

Siobhan laughs. "You're a man, Michael."

Michael thinks of the scars on his chest. "Yes, but… Yes. I suppose. Would you… ah," He leans forward and back, and then forward again, but-

"Michael Stone, you are absolutely ridiculous. Give me a kiss right now, please."

And then it's as if there's no pause, no gap, there is suddenly mouth on mouth, and there is no preparation for how _simple_ it is, how _normal_ it feels, how much like home it is because Siobhan's dark tongue is-

Siobhan draws back, and Michael feels his face burn. With an inscrutable look on his face, Siobhan twists his mouth to the side and blinks. "You- do people usually have that many teeth?"

"What?"

"This," Siobhan says, slowly, "Is not the normal amount of teeth for people from City 5. My family here would _definitely_ confirm this. I've been to dentists, you know."

"Oh."

There's a short pause.

"Is that going to be a problem?" He asks, as earnest as he can, while Siobhan looks at him as if the sun is dawning.

"No! No. No, it is definitely _not_ going to be a problem. Can you…?" He gestures with his hands, clawed fingers stretching open wide. "Open?"

Michael blinks. "Like at the dentist?"

"…Sure."

Michael opens his mouth, feels his jaw unhinge and his back teeth spring forward. "Like this?" He tries to speak clearly, but it comes out garbled and unintelligible. His teeth move forward as he flexes his tongue, and he winces when he stretches a little too far, and the muscle catches on the sharp point of a tooth.

Siobhan laughs. "Honestly, Michael!" He says, breathlessly. He tilts his head back and cackles. "Michael 'I'm normal!' Stone! Wow, I- Michael, I love you. I know I've said that before, and I've always meant it. I really…" He trails off and grins so widely it looks like the flexing network of lines on his face might disappear into his smile.

"Yeah." Michael mumbles, pushing his jaw back into place, and thinking about that. "Yeah, Siobhan. I love you, too."

Mandy makes a strange noise from its pot.

"Shut it!" Siobhan groans and Michael laughs, sitting forward on the sofa.

They hug, Siobhan's sharp fingertips digging into his sides and his head pressed firmly into Michael's shoulder. And that's it. That's home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [finnlogan](https://finnlogan.tumblr.com) for my main blog, or at [verulamfic](https://verulamfic.tumblr.com), where i am still, always and forever, taking fic requests. It might take a while to get around to because I am have 1 (one) month to finish my dissertation, but I'll get around to it!


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